


Checking out rentals

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [184]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 16:09:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14139642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Sam Worthington/Ryan Kwanten storyline in the BDSM RPS RPGCitadel.





	Checking out rentals

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Sam Worthington/Ryan Kwanten storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read).

Sam's already doubtful the moment they pull into the drive. Sure the place is big enough but they're surrounded by neighbours, boxed in on both sides, and the lady pushing the baby stroller along the sidewalk is already giving them the eye. But the real estate agent is busy giving them her spiel on how it's a lovely professional neighbourhood, not fifteen minutes to where Sam'll be doing most of his shooting and there's a baby grand included in the rental. That gets Sam's attention but he still gives Ryan a look.

The ultra-close neighbors make Ryan uneasy as well, and that's even before they get inside. It's a spacious home with lovely Tudor-style architecture, true. It's also decorated to such a fussy degree that he's a little paranoid he might snag the edge of a lace tablecloth or send a hand-painted enamel urn crashing to the ground. Behind the agent's back, he sends Sam a look of wide-eyed panic.

"To be honest," Sam says, interrupting the agent's non-stop monologue, "I think it might be a bit fussy for me."

"Oh." Linda stops and looks at him for a moment and then around them. "I guess I can see that."

"I kind of feel like the bull in the china shop," he says, gesturing, but not too widely, at all the knick-knacks.

"Yes, well, we could wrap some of those up and put them away," she suggests, but he's already shaking his head. "You don't want to see the upstairs then?"

"I don't think there's any point," Sam says bluntly. "I need something a little less... busy, and where the neighbours won't care if I'm blasting speed metal at 3 in the morning." Which he never does but hey, if it gets her more focused on what they-- well, _he_ needs, since she thinks Ryan's just his P.A., then good.

She looks through her listings. "I've got a place I can show you that's larger, a little more private... but it has the master suite on the first floor. Would that work?"

Sam nods. "Sure. Ryan could have the upstairs and I could be on the first floor. My girlfriend too when she comes to visit."

Linda beams at him, leading them back out of the house. "Will she be coming to visit often?" Wait until everyone hears...

///

True to her words, the next estate Linda shows them is not only bigger, but also slightly more private. However, there's emphasis on that _slightly_. The next-door neighbors are still suburban-close. From the house's patio Ryan can see straight over into another house's swimming pool, and vice-versa. He's thinking a pool would be lovely in summer. But in autumn, in New England? Not really.

It's the kitchen that clinches the decision for Ryan, though. Apparently it's still on the Rooms To Be Renovated waiting list. Small, badly lit, with yellow and white walls accented with bamboo tiles. Bamboo, really? Appliances in the same dusky shade of yellow, damn. And the work triangle has no flow whatsoever; it's really more of a work square-dance, and a cramped one at that. 

He emerges from the kitchen to catch Sam shaking his head at their view through a large bay window of a neighbor's swing-set, and decides to go to work.

"Ma'am?" he says, politely catching Linda's interest. "If I could speak with you a bit about Mr. Worthington's _particular_ needs," he suggests, pulling out his iPad and a stylus so he looks more business-like. "Mr. Worthington is a man who likes his space. Not just inside the house, but outside as well. Sometimes his movies film at night, and he needs to be able to come home and relax entirely. He adores children, of course." Ryan gestures towards the swing-set. "But he can't sleep with a playground right outside his window. Perhaps you could show him a house with more extensive grounds, so he'll have his privacy?" He takes a breath. "Also, he occasionally likes to have professional chefs in to prepare his meals. He definitely needs a house with a large state-of-the-art kitchen." Ryan inhales again, then flashes her a wide dimpled smile. "Perhaps you have a listing more like that which you could show him?"

Linda looks distinctly uncomfortable and more than a little flustered. "I do, I think," she says, "but it would be much more than anything else I was going to show him."

"That's not an issue," Sam responds, still looking out the window. Fuck.

"Really?" She glances from Ryan to Sam and back again. "Let me check with my office," she says, pulling out her phone. "Susan? It's Linda. Is the Wadsworth Estate still available as a rental? Monthly? How much?" She nods, listening. "Where are the keys? And the lockbox? Okay. Thanks." She hangs up. "I have what I think is the perfect property but you'd have to rent it for the full two months and it would run you $25,000 per month."

Sam thinks about that for a moment, even though he doesn't really have to. "It's a lot more private?" he asks, looking over.

"Oh, yes."

Sam nods at Ryan. He'll let his lover deal with the rest of the details.

"Great," Ryan says, giving her his best 'Help me out, I'm a minion just like you,' smile, and gently herds her to the front door. "He'd like to see that house, please."

///

The Wadsworth Estate is a twenty-minute drive from the last listing they looked at, and Linda explains it could be a commute to the set as long as forty minutes, in traffic. But Ryan's breath catches the moment they pull into the long winding private driveway and the estate comes into view. The house is seated on its own _lake_ , for heaven's sake, with a private boat dock. Much of Linda's pitch is just so much static in his ears as they walk inside, because he's way too busy trying to take in all the details of the home at once. Linda pauses in the living room to point out various architectural features, and Ryan wanders past her into the kitchen -- where he nearly has an orgasm on the spot.

"How big are the grounds?" Sam asks, seriously impressed, watching Ryan as he can without raising too much suspicion.

"There's 115 acres and the lake itself is 12 acres," Linda tells him. "It's private and it comes with a boathouse and there are two boats you're welcome to use."

Christ. "So no neighbours," Sam says with a smile.

"Not a one," she assures him. "There are, however, three guesthouses, each with their own complete living quarters, so you could have visitors..."

"That's brilliant," Sam says. "How's the kitchen?" he asks Ryan.

"Oh, it's okay," Ryan answers, afraid he's been caught drooling and trying now to act casual. "I mean, there's no island. But it's got a sub-zero refrigerator and a full-size freezer, plus a gas range and sealed burners." Okay, he probably doesn't seem so casual after all. He gives Sam a firm nod. "I think it'll meet your needs. Are we on the actual mountaintop?"

"Yes, we are," Linda says, happy her clients finally seem to warming up to something. "There are beautiful views of Farmington Valley and Litchfield Hills from all over the house and the grounds." She smiles at them both. "There simply isn't another property like this anywhere nearby and you're not going to get more privacy than this."

"You said it could be a forty minute commute though?" Sam asks, thinking about spending almost an hour and a half in a fucking car each day.

"Only when the traffic's heavy and even then it could be as little as thirty minutes, but normally, outside rush hour, which isn't much of a rush around here, you're looking at twenty-thirty minutes."

"I can hire you a driver," Ryan suggests. "Or I can take you in, each day." This is to be the first of five movies Sam is shooting in a row, and Ryan is very worried about the potential for Sam getting overwhelmed; he's determined to take better care of his sir this time. He looks at Linda. "When is this house available?" Just in case his lover has already made up his mind...

Linda blinks at him. "You could have it today if you wanted. It comes furnished and the owners are living overseas." She glances at Sam and then back at Ryan, since Sam's personal assistant seems to be the details man. "Don't you want to see the upstairs?"

"Absolutely," Ryan agrees. "I can start on any paperwork you have that doesn't need Mr. Worthington's signature, and he can go exploring." He glances at Sam in question, just to make sure that plan is okay with _him_. "And then if he needs any changes made, he'll let us know."

Sam wanders upstairs. Most of the bedrooms are on the first floor but the second floor boasts a guest bedroom with its own bathroom, a study, another lounge or sitting area and a massive master suite with a huge ensuite, its own sitting area and his and hers -- or his and his -- walk-in closets _plus_ the best feature of all, a wall-to-wall view out over the lake. Yeah. He could handle six weeks here, and more importantly, he's pretty sure Ryan won't find it a hardship either. "It's incredible up there," he says, returning to the first floor. "Where do I sign?"

Linda looks surprised - delightedly so, but still - and Ryan beams at Sam before toning down his smile a bit for her.

"We might be able to negotiate with them on the monthly rate," she says, clearly scrabbling for a hold. "If you're willing--"

"It's fine," Ryan cuts her off quietly but firmly. "This is the way he likes to do business. Once Mr. Worthington makes up his mind, he's ready to move on." He still doesn't know what the second floor looks like - not to mention the guest cottages, the grounds - but he couldn't care less. He's seen the living room and the kitchen and glimpsed the lake, and most importantly of all, he's seen his lover's face. "If you'd bring him whatever papers you need to, I'd appreciate it."

"I can show you the rest of the grounds then take you back to my office to complete the paperwork and get the keys," Linda says. "We'll need both months' rent, but then it's yours."

Sam nods. "Ryan can arrange for the funds to be wired to you."

The rest of the estate proves as stunning as the house, if not more so, and Ryan feels like holding his breath until they get all the details sorted; it seems too good to be true. He ambles along with his hands in his pockets and plies Linda with questions - five inches of rain each autumn month, really? And the first snowfall comes that early? No, they don't get snow in November where he and Sam are from - but it's just a cover to distract her from how frequently he glances at his lover. He's dying to grab Sam's hand and kiss him with all the excitement he's feeling.

The drive back to Linda's office proves her point about the commute only being 20 minutes during non-peak hours which makes Sam even happier with the whole deal. He fills out the paperwork, they transfer the money, Linda hands over the keys and it's done: they have a place for the next two months. A fucking incredibly awesome place. He grins over at Ryan the whole ride back, careful not to touch his lover in public as usual, and all too-aware of all eyes upon them. Movies are a _huge_ deal in this kind of town and any gossip from the set or about the stars will spread like wildfire. "You sure you don't mind driving me in in the morning?" he asks. "I can always grab another rental."

"I'd like to drive you, if that's all right. I mean, you know I'll be awake anyway," Ryan answers. "And I hate the thought of you dealing with traffic after you've worked all day."

"You're going to drive me both ways?" Sam says, surprised. "That's gonna be a huge fucking chunk out of your day," he points out. "Or were you thinking I'd get a driver in the morning and you'd pick me up at night?"

"Either. Both." Ryan shrugs and gives his lover a grin. "Look how gorgeous it is here, Sam. All green, and so many trees, and this winding mountain road the last bit of the way... I can't believe this place is going to be ours."

"It's amazing, isn't it?" Sam agrees. "When we told her I wanted privacy, I really wasn't expecting this, especially after the first few places she showed us." He shudders theatrically.

"Yeah, this is, like, Crystal Lake kind of stuff," Ryan jokes. "I'm going to start getting nervous that there's some big scary guy lurking in the woods..." Of course, Ryan couldn't be more obvious with his invitation.

"Yeah?" Sam grins. "And up here no one would hear you crying for help..."

There's no way Ryan can keep the delighted grin off his face. "You're right," he says softly, glancing aside at Sam as he negotiates the tight curves of the road. "I'd be totally at his mercy, wouldn't I? Not a soul to come to my rescue. I'd have to rely on my wits and charm."

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" Sam teases.

Ryan laughs out loud. "Well, I _also_ have a great ass, if that's what you're implying. And I can probably run faster than he can."

"Unless he gets you up against the lake, maybe backed out onto the boat dock," Sam points out.

Biting his bottom lip, Ryan swallows a moan. Because in a flash he pictures it: that incredible clean blue sky, green trees towering overhead, the rough wood of the dock biting into his skin, Sam driving into him... and no one to hear him scream. "Is that our turn? I think that's our turn."

"Yeah." Sam grins, having a pretty good damn idea of exactly what Ryan's picturing. "So, what do you want to do when we get to the house? Unpack? Get the kitchen set up the way you want it?"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, we should do all of that." Ryan shoots Sam a saturnine look. "As a matter of fact it will probably take me at least four hours to get the kitchen rearranged until it's perfect, so you're right that I should get an early start. Because unpacking will take another hour or so, and then I need to figure out where to go buy some groceries, then come back here and start dinner cooking..." They pull up the drive and park in front of the massive house, and Ryan sighs softly with wonder.

"Or we could take a walk down to the dock, check out the boat house..." Sam says casually, his jeans already slightly tighter. He checks his watch. "Stores'll be open til nine, or we can always get food in tomorrow."

Ryan grins crookedly. "Let's do that, then. Just give me five minutes. And the keys." They haven't brought much luggage with them - they never do - and Ryan just leaves their stuff sitting in the foyer before heading in search of the nearest bathroom. He quickly freshens up, laughing softly at this need he feels to get clean just so they can get good and dirty. And it's actually under five minutes when he's back out front by the car, waiting.

"Hey." Sam rejoins Ryan with a grin, holding out his hand. "I was just checking out the garage. It's full of old antiques and stuff. You should take a look later."

"I would love to," Ryan answers, smiling widely as he takes his lover's hand. "I missed you. All day." They've been together all day, sure -- but being together with 'Mr. Worthington' while Ryan is pretending to be his consummately professional personal assistant is just not the same thing at all.

"Yeah. Me too," Sam nods, bringing their hands to his lips so he can kiss Ryan's knuckles. "The whole P.A. thing sucks but it's better than not being able to have you around." He looks around, shaking his head. "This place has _three_ fucking barns."

"I foresee that I'm really going to begin appreciating barns," Ryan murmurs, watching his lover with a smile. "For right now, though..." he starts walking backwards, tugging Sam in the direction of the lake.

Sam laughs. "You've been plotting this since we first saw this place, haven't you?" Not that he's complaining. Hell, far from it.

"Yeah... pretty much," Ryan confesses. It's a gorgeous late summer day, with the humidity burning off up here in the mountains, but the sun still strong. Ryan pulls off his blue Henley and tosses it carelessly to the grass, then takes off for the lake at a run.

Jesus Christ. Sam laughs and then follows suit, dropping his t-shirt with Ryan's and giving chase.

Hearing the sound of Sam's pounding footsteps, Ryan cuts his speed and drops back a little. Until Sam is _almost_ hot on his tail. But he saves a last burst of turbo-speed to sprint right off the length of the dock, freewheeling in the air for a split-second before he hits the water with a huge splash.

Sam stops at the edge of the dock and just shakes his head. He drops his jeans, pulls off his boots and dives in, coming up with a shout, the water even colder than expected. "Fuck! Fuckfuck _fuck_!"

When Ryan breaks the surface he yelps as well, but his is more a shout of sheer delight. "This is fucking awesome!" he yells, at the tops of his fool lungs. "This is amazing!" He treads water for a few seconds, a huge grin on his face, before he leaps and tackles Sam. They both go under but only for a moment, and then Ryan finds Sam's warm warm mouth, licking inside with his tongue. In the next instant, though, he swims for the dock and hauls himself out. "Fuck!" he yells, struggling to work the wet knotted shoelaces of his trainers. He manages to get them off and then his soaking wet jeans slop onto the dock as well, and Ryan stands naked, wet and shivering beneath the sky. "Fuck me!"

"If you insist," Sam grins, swimming for the dock. He pulls himself out of the water and shivers as he stands, running his hands through his hair before he reaches for Ryan, reeling him in and kissing him hard enough to bruise.

"Mmm." Ryan moans softly and rubs his hands over Sam's back, trying to get a start on warming his lover back up. He takes a few steps up the dock until they're in a patch of full sunlight, then pulls Sam down to the rough wooden planks.

"You are _such_ a slut," Sam murmurs, grinning as he bites at Ryan's mouth, making room for himself between his boy's thighs, cockhead already nudging between his cheeks.

"Yeah," Ryan breathes in agreement. "Your slut. I'd do fucking anything for you. Anything you wanted," he whispers, spreading his legs and pulling his knees up to make room, but keeping his eyes laser-fixed on Sam's. "Any fucked-up degrading painful thing you want, I'm your boy."

"Is that right?" Sam murmurs, his cock giving a rough throb even as he snaps his hips and drives it sharp and deep into Ryan's body.

Ryan shouts, dropping his head to the dock. He tightens his grip on his knees, arching his back and opening his body as much as he can. "Yes! Please, Sir!" The pain is like a wildfire, blazing through him. "Fuck me!"

Sam rams his cock into Ryan's hole a half dozen times and then pulls back, all the way out, kneeling up, his hands on his boy's thighs, gripping tight, as he pulls him back onto it. "I want you to scream, boy," he growls, driving in again. "I want the next fucking county to hear you."

"Yes, Sir," Ryan gasps. The rough planks are digging into him already, an acid fire of abrasions on his skin. Sam's cock is pounding into him mercilessly. It's fucking beautiful. "Sir!" he shouts, his fingernails digging into the backs of his thighs. "Oh god, Sir, please!"

"Please what?" Sam smirks. "You need a little more incentive?" He slaps Ryan's cock, hard, with the flat of his hand.

Ryan howls, his entire body tensing, a wire pulled taut and about to snap. And he nearly fucking loses it right then. "Please, Sir, please let your boy come!" he babbles, his muscles clenching tighter than tight around Sam as he tries to simply keep himself together. "Please hurt me more!"

"You don't have permission," Sam says. "Not yet, boy." Slapping Ryan's cock again, his balls gripped and squeezed in Sam's other hand.

Writhing, Ryan digs his fingernails even deeper into his flesh. The pain has progressed from individual spiking flashes to some intense white-out overload. If it weren't for that punishing stranglehold on his balls, there's no way he'd still be in the game. "Please," he gasps, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Oh fuck, please!"

"Scream for me, boy," Sam demands, slapping Ryan's cock even harder, his own still buried deep in his boy's body.

Ryan does. He arches his back and screams his need to the sky, lust and agony blazing through him and intertwining hopelessly. His throat is hoarse and everything fucking hurts, but he knows there's an explosion of pleasure lingering just out of sight -- if only he can reach it.

"That's it," Sam says, releasing his hold on Ryan's balls. "Again," he growls, digging his nails into his lover's thighs as he fucks into him so hard it hurts. "Fucking come for me."

Madness rushes through Ryan in an instant. He's not even certain precisely when he starts to come; there's only _then_ and _now_. Sobbing, he drops his feet to the dock and grabs for Sam, needing to touch him.

Sam drapes himself over Ryan, hips still moving, chasing his own release, head lifted to shout out his pleasure when he reaches it, cock flooding his boy's battered hole.

Ryan whimpers and clutches at Sam, dangerously adrift. His breathing still isn't quite normal - something hurts in his chest every time it hitches - and he raises his legs, trying to wrap himself around his lover.

"Hey," Sam whispers, getting his arms under Ryan's shoulders, holding him so close. "It's okay. I've got you," he murmurs, kissing the side of his throat. "I love you so much."

_Love you_ , Ryan thinks, but he's not sure if the words actually form on his lips or not. He clings to his sir, giving up on trying to ground himself and simply surrendering.


End file.
